ng, weedy, pale-faced boy, fifteen years of
age and about four feet nine inches in height. His trousers were part
of a suit that he had once worn for best, but that was so long ago that
they had become too small for him, fitting rather lightly and scarcely
reaching the top of his patched and broken hob-nailed boots. The knees
and the bottoms of the legs of his trousers had been patched with
square pieces of cloth, several shades darker than the original fabric,
and these patches were now all in rags. His coat was several sizes too
large for him and hung about him like a dirty ragged sack. He was a
pitiable spectacle of neglect and wretchedness as he sat there on an
upturned pail, eating his bread and cheese with fingers that, like his
clothing, were grimed with paint and dirt.

'Well then, you can't have put enough tea in, or else you've bin usin'
up wot was left yesterday,' continued Sawkins.

'Why the bloody 'ell don't you leave the boy alone?' said Harlow,
another painter. 'If you don't like the tea you needn't drink it. For
my part, I'm sick of listening to you about it every damn day.'

'It's all very well for you to say I needn't drink it,' answered
Sawkins, 'but I've paid my share an' I've got a right to express an
opinion. It's my belief that 'arf the money we gives 'him is spent on
penny 'orribles: 'e's always got one in 'is hand, an' to make wot tea
'e does buy last, 'e collects all the slops wot's left and biles it up
day after day.'

'No, I don't!' said Bert, who was on the verge of tears. 'It's not me
wot buys the things at all. I gives the money I gets to Crass, and 'e
buys them 'imself, so there!'

At this revelation, some of the men furtively exchanged significant
glances, and Crass, the foreman, became very red.

'You'd better keep your bloody thruppence and make your own tea after
this week,' he said, addressing Sawkins, 'and then p'raps we'll 'ave a
little peace at meal-times.'

'An' you needn't ask me to cook no bloaters or bacon for you no more,'
added Bert, tearfully, 'cos I won't do it.'

Sawkins was not popular with any of the others. When, about twelve
months previously, he first came to work for Rushton & Co., he was a
simple labourer, but since then he had 'picked up' a slight knowledge
of the trade, and having armed himself with a putty-knife and put on a
white jacket, regarded himself as a fully qualified painter. The
others did not perhaps object to him trying to better his